


That One Was Me

by voiceless_terror



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Injury, Jon thinks about Daisy and that day in the woods, Post Ep. 92, Slight Ep. 178 Spoilers if you know what to look for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Daisy had once tried to kill him. Jon has not forgotten this.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 29
Kudos: 218





	That One Was Me

_That one was me._

Jon sits in his office, alone, contemplating the words. The past few days.

First, he burned. Then, he fell. Finally, he was hunted. Almost killed. Nobody seemed to care about that. Maybe nobody knew. But how could they not? His arm, horribly bandaged, couldn’t stand to have any fabric constricting it and was in full view. He kept choking on air in the middle of conversations as if it were being slammed out of his chest. And his throat kept _bleeding._ Sluggish and slow, sure, but it refused to fully heal, staining the collar of his shirt dark red. He couldn’t turn his neck for fear it would re-open and steal the life from his body in one fell swoop.

The first two blows had come from avatars. People he expected to hurt him. Jon knew what he was getting into when he visited Jude Perry and Michael Crew. He’d read the statements, heard the stories. They weren’t good people. They fed on innocents.

He knew Daisy wasn’t a good person. Hell, she was well on her way to becoming an avatar herself, if she wasn’t already. But he didn’t think she hated him, wished him harm like the others. He hadn’t been expecting it. 

_You don’t know what he is. You don’t know what it’s like to have your secrets pulled out like teeth, just because he asked._

What was he? What had he become? What did he deserve? He was _sure_ he didn’t mean to get her story, not like that. It had been a whim, one that he thought Daisy indulged. But perhaps he was the monster she claimed him to be. 

Daisy shot Mike Crew. His blood littering the ground, covering his shoes which Jon tried desperately to wipe away in the dirt and grass. And then she had cataloged him; what little possessions he had on him, pathetic. On playing the words back in his mind, she wasn’t far off. An amalgamation of loss, vice, and meager defenses.

_One wallet, brown leather, no cash. One packet cigarettes, Silk Cut. One lighter, gold, spiderweb design. One pocket knife… blunt. Huh. One set of keys to the Magnus Institute. And one tape recorder._

The blunt knife became somehow sharper in her hand as it went to his throat, cutting into his skin. His pleas went unanswered. He shook and cried and begged as she accused him of murder. This was how he would die. Basira arguing in the background, his only chance at survival.

_For god’s sake, look at him!_

What a sight he must have made, quivering and gasping around Daisy’s hands. Disfigured, covered in scars. _Hideous._ Looking every bit the monster she accused him of being, but pitiful and weak. In the end, the only thing that saved him was that monstrosity, that ability to tear out stories and drink his fill. He wasn’t saved because he was Jon, but rather because he was _The Archivist_. Elias loved that, surely. His smug face; _what does human even mean?_ To Jon it meant having some worth in just _being._ To have someone care for him because he was Jon, because he was tired and he needed help and it was the right thing to do. But who helps a monster? Not even another monster, it would seem. 

_If this doesn’t work, you’re still dead._

_Yeah, yeah._

He agreed. It hadn’t really worked; the brief moment where Elias shivered in delight at his compulsion instead of eagerly spilling his guts made his heart plummet in his chest. _I’m dead I’m dead you’re not even good at being a monster, what use are you to anyone?_ But then Elias had told them the truth anyway; he knew there was nothing anyone could do to stop his machinations. 

Jon buried a man today. A man he did not know, a man who did him harm but not as badly as he could have. A man who gave him his story when he didn’t need to. Mike Crew was dead because Jon _made_ him that way. Everything he touched turned to ash in his hand.

It was slow going, but he managed a shallow grave. He had one working hand and grew light-headed from the blood loss, but every time he paused Daisy shoved at him until he continued. Basira watched. This was his penance.

On the way back to the institute, Daisy had put on _The Archers_. Basira rolled her eyes and sniped at her. They exchanged an easy banter. Jon sniffed and silently cried in the backseat. No matter how many times he wiped his hands on his jeans, the dirt wouldn’t come out. He pressed his jacket to his neck. It always came away with blood.

_That one was me._

So proud. What’s one more scar? Add it to the collection.

Elias had been the one to ask what had happened. And it was just a mockery of concern, he didn’t truly care. He already knew. Jon’s pain meant nothing to him; it only existed to give him some sort of pleasure. But Jon had no one else to turn to- Elias held all of the answers and dangled them in front of him like a prize always out of reach.

He sits in his office and bleeds. He’s gotten good at that. And somehow, Daisy is still here. She’s still here and no one cares and it’s fine and Jon’s fine. He just needs some time to convince himself of it, that’s all.

And then a year passes. He still goes into that coffin, drags her from the Buried. He has to be useful, show Basira he’s worth the trouble. That some people deserve saving even if they’re bad. That _he’s_ worth saving.

Daisy sits across from him, stretching her legs as they listen to _The Archers._ She laughs and smiles, and Jon is reminded of a different smile from before all this. When her hands were covered in blood on the steering wheel, hands that had just been around his throat and ready to kill at a moment’s notice. She’d laughed then, too. He feels anger and terror at war in his chest and he freezes. Daisy notices.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

“No, nothing,” he replies. 

They both know he is lying.

**Author's Note:**

> My little Episode 178 feelings that I wanted to get out. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Can be reached @voiceless-terror on tumblr. Thanks for reading!


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